


Fervor

by casimirs, reveris



Series: Boy Meets Evil [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Declarations Of Love, Other, Relationship Status: It's Complicated, Tsundere Makeouts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26122531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casimirs/pseuds/casimirs, https://archiveofourown.org/users/reveris/pseuds/reveris
Summary: The odds are all against you, but... desperate times calls for desperate measures. You are determined to learn his truth, because not knowing, you decide, is a fate worse than rejection.
Relationships: Azem/Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch
Series: Boy Meets Evil [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1808143
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	Fervor

**Author's Note:**

> What is chronological order, I don't know what that is. Also Suki is a blessing for editing my bad grammar and prose and preventing me from writing bad jokes for a summary.

_ Tick tock tick tock _

The steady sound of the clock seems to only do more and more to agitate your mood rather than alleviate it.

How did it end up like this?

Standing in this alleyway you’re now all too familiar with, impatiently waiting for the man you are infatuated with to step out for a break just so you could corner him. 

You did not what to do this - by far this is probably something that would, indeed, fit both his and your brother’s description of stalkery behavior - but you did not want to think about him and your brother in the same thought right now. Much less the idea that they might agree on something.

Your blood runs cold at the thought of what could’ve happened if things had turned out just slightly different. Would you still have fallen for him then? Could you have been happy for him and your brother, having never known the sweet, innocent bliss of just being in the presence of someone you love?

You were desperate. It was a feeling you were neither familiar nor comfortable with. You didn’t even know how to bring this up with him in a tactful way, did not have any tricks or a plan up your sleeve to try to lure the information out of him, especially not now when your mood is so foul. Simply because, as always, this foolish and frustrating yet wonderful infatuation of yours addles your mind from making any sort of rational or logical decision and it makes you feel insecure in a way that you had once swore you would never allow anyone to make you feel again.

You are not one to play a losing game, especially one that you knew you’ve already lost before it even started.

The moment he appears, you stare at him, wondering what he’s thinking, seeing you standing under the comforts of the shadows, silent, with your arms folded across your chest. You see him raise a questioning eyebrow at your peculiar silence and you wonder how much of your dark mood was showing on your face, for you did not even have the energy to keep up a pretense. Not in front of him, not when you are feeling this way. And it is in that moment that you decide impulsively to simply follow your gut and do what you want. No dissembling, no pretty words. Just allowing yourself to act on instinct and leaving him no room to try to use your trademark flippancy to dismiss your behavior. 

Wordlessly, before he could say something to fill the silence, you make a few quick strides and pull him towards you, sealing his lips with yours, trapping him against the wall with your taller frame before his brain can catch up to him.

You kiss him as if you were starved and he was the only one who could quench your hunger. You push against him, hands digging into his hair as you try to gain better access to explore his mouth. You keep your eyes close, afraid of what you might see in his gilded gaze. 

Sweet. He tastes sweet, sugary, as if he’s just consumed some kind of dessert. And, of course, there is that slight hint of nicotine. Your heart races faster. An addiction, you decide then and there, he is an addiction you can’t get enough of. You want to keep him, want him for yourself. It frightens you just exactly how much you want him and the thought that he could have become your brother’s instead, fills you with so much bitterness you feel you could go mad. You want to monopolize him, clip his wings and lock him in a cage so ornate, he would not know the difference until all his attention was only on you.

But you knew you couldn’t do that. Because then, he would not be him. He had to be the one to choose. You  _ want _ him to choose, and you want to  _ be _ the person that he chooses. 

So, despite your initial aggressiveness, your actions slowly soften, your guard lowers and you begin to cling to him like a lifeline as you give him an opening to flee if he so pleases. The hand he had placed against your chest since the start feels like a knife and you brace yourself for the pain when he inevitably breaks your heart and rejects you.

He doesn’t.

In an unexpected twist, he grips the front of your coat, tugging you forward and, as if accepting a challenge, returns your kisses with equal fervor. Your heart soars and you let the last shred of your decency go, allowing all the emotions you’ve been holding back in the days you spent wallowing and considering the implication of your brother’s revelation in solitude to roam free. You hold onto him possessively, pressing against him, wanting to feel as close to him as humanly possible and devour him whole with your kisses.

_ I love you.  _

_ I love you. _

_ I love you. _

The words you longed to say echoed in your mind like a prayer with each breathless kiss that you stole from him, and he takes back from you in return. 

  
  


Eventually, that overwhelming feeling proves difficult to ignore, the words screaming to be heard. Parting with a bite on his bottom lip, you feel satisfied at having left your mark on him, your hands remaining on his face to hold him like a priceless treasure. This time, you keep your face impassive as you stare him straight in the eyes, wanting him to see  _ you _ , wanting him to understand the weight of what you were about to say in all the sincerity you can manage from your wicked, twisted heart.

“My brother told me what happened.” You declare, your voice steady. You can feel him tense, ready to deliver a defensive retort towards you, but you keep a firm hold on his face so he could not look away, nor have the opportunity to cut you off. “He is… concerned, I suppose, that you might have ulterior motives with me. Silly of him, really, when  _ I’m _ the one with the ulterior motive for approaching  _ you _ .” 

At this you chuckle, a bitter, self-deprecating sound, your expression softening as you take in his endearing, confused expression. Were it any other situation, you would comment about how cute he looks with his brows furrowed, but you had a point to make and you did not want him to find an excuse to dismiss you.

“Yes, it is quite ironic. But in any case, although I respect him and usually defer to his wisdom, for this situation, I have to disagree with him. I don’t believe you are that type of person. You may be as prickly as a porcupine and wear an impenetrable mask at times, but you are  _ not _ someone who would be that malicious. No... I would go as far as to say that you’re actually quite pure. So alluring, so tempting for a poisonous creature like me.” 

And tempted you were. The way he is looking at you now, the way you have his full attention - being the sole focus reflected in those beautiful eyes; all of this sorely tempts you with a hunger to claim him again and again. You do nothing to hide the desire written on your face. You want him to see you as you are -  _ really _ see you as you are and not just the frivolous, fickle side of you.

“You are a treasure, one meant to be cherished, and my brother is a fool. He should have been thankful to receive your affections, and yet he rejected the greatest gift that was offered to him.” You give into the urge to brush a stray lock of hair from his face as a smile blooms on your face. You can’t help but wonder what you looked like to him at this very moment; angelic or devilish? “But I can’t say I’m sorry that he rejected you, because his loss is  _ my _ gain. I might be devious, I might have used underhanded ways to trick you into going on a date with me before. But whatever you might think of me, unlike him, I’m not blind.... I can  _ see _ your true worth. And if you would give me the chance, if you would consider me seriously, I promise I will never,  _ ever _ let you go.”

Although you try to keep your voice steady, you can feel a lump begin to form in your throat. Your hands feel unsteady and you fear he will notice and slip from your grasp, so you shift your position, pulling him back into your embrace. Perhaps he was still stunned by your confession because he did not think of resisting you and that in itself offered immeasurable relief to the nervousness that you haven’t felt in a long time.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent as you make your plea. “So please… choose me.” 

And, as if handing him back the metaphorical knife for which to stab you with, you whisper those words that could potentially seal both your fate and his:

“I love you, Hades, won’t you be mine?”


End file.
